The Child of Satan and the Shoelaces
by Ally5
Summary: Lindsay represents a shoelace company and Bobby represents a man accused of killing the ex-boss of his homicidal, paranoid schizophrenic wife. But he's innocent I tell ya! Yeah...this is a parody


The Child of Satan and the Shoelaces  
  
Author: Ally  
  
Author's Notes: This is a parody. If you're humour impaired, my advice would be to stop now and go visit that interesting basket weaving site you've been meaning to check out.  
  
Summary: Lindsay sues a shoelace company and Bobby represents a man accused of killing his paranoid, homicidal schizophrenic wife's ex-boss. But he's innocent I tell ya!  
  
Disclaimer: The characters are so out of character even their mothers wouldn't know them anymore. But I apologise to DEK for using him in this.  
  
   
  
"Lindsay did you agree to this case?" Bobby emerged from his office, his awful hair swept up into a Mohawk (well it may as well be...have you seen his hair this season? It can be described with one word....EWWWWWWWW. But I digress).  
  
"Oh god, not again." Lucy piped up, because you know if anyone seems to get stuck with the pointless lines, its Lucy. DEK must hate the poor girl.  
  
"Lindsay?" Bobby repeated. It's his job as the boss to get all the information on all the cases. And if that means repeating himself inanely, so be it. That's right, so be it. I'm allowed to repeat too.  
  
Lindsay sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. "Bobby we're just doing some discovery, it will take 2 days tops. I'll only need the whole office plus the empty space next door and the help of every lawyer and the ten paralegals I hired this morning."  
  
"Oh, well as you're my wife, I'll agree to it. But consider yourself warned."  
  
"Warned?"  
  
"Lindsay just because we apparently make sweet sweet love at home...well we have a kid, we must have slept with each other at some stage...I still have to treat you like my inferior. Otherwise Ellenor gets riled."  
  
"I do not!" Ellenor exclaimed, riled.  
  
"See?"  
  
Lindsay smiled.  
  
"Now, in my office!" Bobby ordered.  
  
"Who?" Rebecca asked, confused.  
  
Bobby threw up his hands, "I don't care! Anybody! That's what I say when I leave a room."  
  
Lindsay nodded at the others, "He's not joking. When he leaves the bathroom he always says it."  
  
"Back to work!" Bobby yelled.  
  
"He says that a lot too."  
  
Lucy looked at Lindsay, "He hasn't had any in a while has he?" she asked.  
  
Lindsay giggled in reply, "Sex? No we never have sex. Hell I don't even know if we live together anymore. I hope he's taking care of the baby."  
  
"Yeah apparently I have a baby too, how cool is that," Ellenor added excitedly.  
  
"Shut up Ellenor, you're only here to be riled," Jimmy admonished. He is the voice of reason after all.  
  
"I DO NOT GET RILED!" she yelled back.  
  
Silence.  
  
Then... "Oh....Shit."  
  
But work continued on at its usual steady pace at the office. Lawyers disappeared mumbling things about settlement conferences and depositions and summary judgments, they didn't really have a clue what they were talking about but since it was written in the script, they knew it had to be right. It was at this point that Bobby landed a big murder case. Again. And the accused man was innocent. Again. Of course the wife did it. Again. Women must be severely repressed and angry in Boston, or else there is just an extraordinarily high incidence of infidelity for wives to get homicidal over. Who knows. Who really cares. This is the story and I'm sticking to it (which makes sense, since I'm the one who came up with it. If I wasn't sticking to the story, we should all be very afraid of where this is going).  
  
As I was saying, Bobby landed a big case. Mark Green (not the one from County General in Chicago) and his wife Phoebe (not the one from Central Perk in New York) arrived at the office in a distressed state and with an emotional symphony reaching its crescendo in the background, Mark announced tragically to the office and the millions of viewers worldwide, "Bobby, my dear friend, you've got to help me!"  
  
Well this was not an unusual event in the office for a few reasons. Firstly, Bobby has lots of murdering friends, its one of the hazards of knowing him (kind of grouped with the likelihood of food poisoning when he cooks and car accidents when he drives). But he was damn good looking and a whiz at sports, so I guess the advantages outweighed the cons, or whatever. And if you're going to murder, who better to have as a friend than Bobby Donnell? The man that made you murder is going to set you free. It all works out in the end. So what if you have a murder on your conscience?  
  
Oh dear am I digressing again?  
  
The second reason they ignored the man who was speaking tragically is that it happens so often nobody really cares anymore. Where is the murderer that admits to his crime? Where is the murderer who doesn't really give a crap about his defense? I want to meet those clients.  
  
Funnily enough, Bobby was the only one who reacted to this tragic statement. "In my office!"  
  
This gave Lindsay the freedom to continue her case. (See? I know what I'm doing here). She gave orders to her army of paralegals and they all got hurriedly to work. What was the case, I hear you ask? Well that's a very good question. You will know it when I come up with it. Give me a few minutes and all will be revealed (my fingers are crossed, you should cross yours too). Let's just leave it at Lindsay working away in the conference room like the obedient worker bee that she is.  
  
Meanwhile in Bobby's office there was a tearful admission of events that led to Mark Green becoming the chief suspect in a man's murder. The man was Niles Frasier (not the one from Seattle) and he had been found in a dumpster outside Mark's apartment block. The murder weapon was outside with Mark's fingerprints on it and there was a confession note written by Mark in the man's back pocket.  
  
"But I'm innocent!" Mark remonstrated with a really annoying whine in his voice. I bet that whine is going to get to me by the end of this story.  
  
His wife sat silently with an evil glint in her eye and the big words "I DID IT" written in neon on her forehead. Bobby scratched his chin in befuddlement.  
  
"Mark, tell me what happened. From the beginning."  
  
"But I was planning on starting from the middle." Mark whined  
  
"I said the beginning and that's final!" Bobby yelled.  
  
Mark sighed. "Well it was like this; I got home from work last night at around 8pm and found this trail of blood leading from the door of Phoebe's car and into the alley next to our apartment. I of course was curious about this, especially after seeing a severed finger on the backseat in my wife's car. It's a Honda."  
  
"Go on," Bobby whispered pensively, motioning with his finger. It's his own special sign language. Not that deaf people need him to sign since he talks so damn loud most of the time.  
  
"Well as I said, I wasn't sure what was going on, so I went around back to where this dumpster was and my wife suddenly appeared from the darkness with blood all over her hands and dripping down her dress. It was such a pretty dress too," he and his wife sighed wistfully.  
  
Bobby looked energized by this latest news, "Keep going, Mark. I want more, I want more! Give it to me, Mark! Give it to me NOW!"  
  
They of course looked at him a little strangely, but Mark continued nevertheless (thank god for that, I for one wasn't willing to explore this newly revealed side of Bobby. I'll leave that for the sadomasochist slasher fanfic writers. Lisaaaaaaaa? Its all yours babe hehehe). "Well I asked my wife what happened and she said 'I killed a man' but it just didn't make sense, I mean, the blood on her clothes and the finger in her car, the puzzle didn't fit together. So I shook her pretty hard and slapped her across the face a few times, thinking she was having one of her paranoid schizophrenic episodes. She started crying and I left her on the pavement while I walked over to the dumpster. And that's when I saw it."  
  
His chin began to tremble and tears welled in his eyes. Bobby took his hands sympathetically and squeezed them, silently urging him to continue and at the same time attempting to ignore Phoebe's psychotically evil laugh "mwa ha ha ha ha!" It was hard to block out, but he managed valiantly.  
  
"What did you see, Mark?" he asked.  
  
"There was a body."  
  
Bobby was enthralled, "Who was it?"  
  
"My wife's boss. Well I should say, it was my wife's ex-boss. He fired her two days ago."  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
"Well the murder weapon was on the ground, so I picked it up and had a good look, putting my fingerprints all over it, just like Mr. Kelley told me to. That's when I noticed the man was missing a finger on his right hand."  
  
"Then what did you do?"  
  
"Well I felt guilty about him dying, I wrote a note to God."  
  
Bobby was impressed by this man's devotion to his faith. "Wow. That's so religious of you. What did the note say?"  
  
"I wrote that I was sorry that he had lost one of his men on earth and that I'd hope that God would forgive the poor sick soul that did this to him. And then I signed my name."  
  
"Did you add anything else?"  
  
"Well I wrote down my address and phone number and social security number."  
  
"Why, Mark?"  
  
"So God would know it was me."  
  
Bobby sat back in his chair and blew a deep breath out through his teeth. "Wow. I think we should make a deal with the DA, Mark. We could take this to trial, but you'd be looking at a life sentence without parole if we lose."  
  
"You're kidding!"  
  
Bobby checked the script, "Nope, I'm not. Apparently that's what I say to all my clients. Its one of David's favourite lines."  
  
"I didn't do it, Bobby."  
  
Bobby turned to look at Phoebe who was shrieking unintelligibly in the corner, while dismembering his childhood teddy bear. "Phoebs? Is Mark telling the truth."  
  
"No!" she shrieked. "I did it! I did it! I did it!" she laughed maniacally.  
  
"Don't listen to her," Mark whispered to Bobby. "The doctors haven't been able to get her meds right. They said she could be homicidal and have psychotic episodes until they figure it out."  
  
Bobby nodded seriously, 'the poor man,' he thought. Being arrested for murder and having a homicidal maniac for a wife. Some people just can't get a break. "Mark, let me talk to the DA. We'll fix this, okay? You can count on me."  
  
"Thanks Bobby, I don't know what I'd do without you."  
  
"You'd be rotting in prison for the rest of your life," Bobby agreed earnestly.  
  
They shook hands and Mark led Phoebe out of the office.  
  
***  
  
Here's where I tell you about Lindsay's case. It's lucky I spent the last few hours thinking about this. Here goes....She's suing a cigar manufacturer for breaking up a marriage.  
  
HOLD on.....what!? It's been done? You've got to be kidding me! sigh okay....she's suing a gun manufacturer for the murder of a girl....excuse me again....no WAY. That's been done too? Wow DEK and I are of one mind.  
  
Let's see...she's suing a shoelace factory over the accidental death of a girl who tripped over her laces and fell down some stairs.  
  
Take that, DEK!  
  
So anyway, Lindsay is working away on this case in the conference room. She has a meeting scheduled with the CEO of the shoelace factory and wants to be totally prepared on the information. She has found that the stats of shoelace injuries are astonishing and is sure she's stumbled (excuse the pun) upon the next big class action litigation. Forget breast implants. Forget cigarettes. Lindsay won't rest until there are health warnings on shoelace packets. She won't rest until commercials run on every major network at prime time warning people of the dangers of putting on a pair of shoes and taking those perilous steps down the street. Every mother will quake in their boots (with shoelaces tied tight of course) when they see their children lacing up their Doc Martens. Those happy sayings 'too big for your boots' or 'you have big shoes to fill' will strike fear into the heart of every red blooded person that has ever walked the earth in shoes. And it will all be due to Lindsay's incredible insight. But I think she's getting a little carried away with this...or I am.  
  
While she was planning her world domination, Lindsay learned that apparently shoelaces are responsible for 40% of sprained ankles in children and that the studies show that 284,137 people trip over their shoelaces every second somewhere in the world (except for some third world countries, where shoes aren't really of a major concern...though Nike sweatshops are huge in most of these places. Ironic really that we don't care enough to give them shoes but we let them make ours....wow I think I just had a revelation).  
  
You know what, I think I digressed again. I really should stop doing that.  
  
So Lindsay is happy with the stats she has collected and she neatens up the pile of papers in front of her and waits in suspense for the CEO to appear. She glances momentarily in the direction of Bobby's office but really, she couldn't care less about what's going on in there. He's only her husband after all.  
  
Finally the CEO arrived and Lindsay ordered Lucy to get him a cup of coffee and to kiss his feet like all good receptionists should do. Lucy of course told Lindsay to bite her and because it was so tempting, Lindsay did. Lucy bled out a little, but rabies is the real worry at this stage. So the CEO waited while they mopped the blood off the floor and finally he took a seat across from Lindsay.  
  
"This lawsuit is a joke," he announced.  
  
These CEO's must have a strange sense of humour if they think tripping over shoelaces is amusing. I mean, has it ever happened to you? Walking down the street then BAM over you go looking like a giraffe with 8 legs. You brush yourself off, wave bashfully to the spectators that are throwing money into the hat that went flying off your head and into the hands of a monkey playing the violin and suddenly you're a star. Oh wait...that might have been the dream I had last night. Where was I again?  
  
Lindsay spoke up in a dead serious tone, "I don't think death is amusing, Mr. Lacer. But I'd like it to go on record that you think it is."  
  
He back-pedalled so fast he hit the back wall of the conference room and rebounded. "Stop getting your shoelaces in a knot, Ms Dole. This is a frivolous suit and you know it."  
  
"Mr. Lacer, you sell a product that almost every person in the world uses at some point in their lives. You sell a product that is a potential hazard to every single one of those people. There have been countless studies performed on the dangers associated with the use of shoelaces, especially in the more high risk age groups such as preschoolers and the elderly, and yet you continue to fastidiously ignore cries for warnings to be placed on shoelace packaging. You ignore organizations such as People for a Trip Free World and The Association for the Removal of Shoelaces, not to mention The Society of The Velcro Alternative, who have been fighting for decades for more public awareness on this most serious issue. You have ignored their plight, you have ignored the cries of a child who has fallen onto burning, abrasive sidewalks after suffering from a shoelace mishap, and now you are ignoring the thud of a little girl as she tumbles down a flight of stairs and cracking her skull on the balustrade because of your dangerous product. Well I will not ignore it. I will not stand for this!"  
  
By this stage of course, Lindsay was standing, and so only slightly contradicted her words. Mr. Lacer was still sitting with his mouth wide open in shock.  
  
Finally he spoke. "Nobody ever said it to me like that." His stare was full of admiration and respect. "You're my hero."  
  
"So are you willing to settle?"  
  
"Settle? Are you kidding? Ally still has to write 4 more pages of this. We need to at least have my lawyer meet with you so you can fight it out and you can both use big words that no one else knows the meaning of."  
  
"Right," Lindsay marked something down in her diary. "How about tomorrow?"  
  
"Perfect. Until then." And standing very carefully, Mr. Lacer exited from the conference room, exaggerating each step in an effort to remain unscathed in the presence of those treacherous shoelaces.  
  
At this point (because in real life events are completely synchronized ---- -- sarcasm), Bobby emerged from his office looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn't really, all he had was the weight of that awful, greasy hair. "How'd it go?" he asked Lindsay.  
  
"Good. I'm his hero."  
  
"That doesn't surprise me."  
  
"What was your client on about?"  
  
"Oh he just killed someone. No biggie."  
  
"Okay. Well this is the only conversation we're allowed to have today, so I'll talk to you again tomorrow."  
  
"Sure. Bye honey."  
  
She flashed him a smile and rounded up her paralegals for a strategy session for the potential class action suit. It was time to consider the big picture and Lindsay had the commercial all planned. Well she had it partially planned. Well okay, she didn't have it planned at all. She just wanted the words "Ever been assaulted by a shoelace?" to appear somewhere on the billboard.  
  
While Bobby and Lindsay were pursuing their big cases, the others were all keeping very busy with important cases. They won't tell me the details...something about attorney/client privilege, so I apologize for not being able to share their adventures too. We'll just have to stick to Bobby and Lindsay for now.  
  
While Lindsay dreamt of stardom in the litigation sense of the word, Bobby made his way to the courthouse to see the DA on the Mark Green case. Of course it's a given that Helen Gamble will be the DA. She single-handedly loses every case that goes through the DA's office (sometimes Alan Lowe helps) so I'd fall off my chair if the DA were that blonde gal that once appeared in first season (Jean?) or Dick Flood from second season. They must have all killed themselves after losing so many cases to DYD&F. What was I talking about again? Oh yes....lets pick up the story from where Bobby knocks on a door...  
  
Knock Knock (wow good timing, huh?)  
  
"Come out come out wherever you are!" Helen called gaily. I don't know why she was so happy, she just was. Maybe Alan Lowe was in there living up (or living down) to his last name. Think about it. Maybe she wasn't actually giving Bobby instructions to enter, but telling someone else to do something else entirely. And maybe we're not put on this earth to question Helen's motives for happiness.  
  
Bobby opened the door and found Helen working diligently (big sigh of relief).  
  
"Bobby, how nice of you to visit."  
  
"Helen, can we talk?"  
  
"Uh oh. You got the Green case didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah. He's innocent Helen. Why can't you see that?"  
  
"If he's so innocent, then who did it?"  
  
"We think he was framed."  
  
"By...?" Helen asked, rolling her eyes.  
  
Bobby sighed with frustration, "We haven't figured that part out yet."  
  
"Bobby, his fingerprints were on the weapon, he CONFESSED to the murder. Stop trying to see ghosts when the person is still alive!"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I don't know, it sounded good when Ally typed it the first time."  
  
"She's a hit and miss kind of author isn't she?" he shook his head, wondering why the hell he was talking about a sexy Aussie girl when a man's life was in his hands (hehehe I'm so modest). "Helen, are you offering any deals?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Helen!" Bobby whined.  
  
"Bobby if I don't get a conviction they're going to feed me to Lisa and Bron, those two can really destroy a person's self esteem. He's guilty and we're going to trial."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Fine."  
  
And with that he left.  
  
***  
  
Now its time for trial. In the state of Massachusetts they have really, really fast trials. This one was conveniently presented before a jury the next day. See how nicely it ties in with Lindsay's case?  
  
Anyway the trial started and the jury was led in and all the jurors looked like upstanding citizens (as they're meant to do. One day I want DEK to bring in a juror with piercings and tattoos all over his body and shooting up cocaine in the courtroom just for a change. I doubt David'll use my suggestions though sigh that restraining order he's got against me kinda inhibits close contact. How backwards is that.).  
  
The opening arguments started and they were brief and to the point (because I can't be bothered writing long ones).  
  
Helen: "He's guilty. We have murder weapon, motive and opportunity. What else do you need?"  
  
Bobby: He's innocent. He was framed by Roger Rabbit. There is only one person who was in his head that night, Elvis and...okay make that two people. My client is the only one who knows what really happened. Please keep an open mind and when I say the word 'possible' a thousand times, please don't revolt against me and begin to break up the furniture. We hate it when that happens, it's pretty disruptive to the judicial process. Thank you."  
  
And so the trial began. But you know what? I can't really be bothered transcribing what happened, that's the court stenographer's job. I'll just summarise the main points.  
  
The detective was called. Bobby said 'possible' an hundred times and the jury revolted. Furniture suffered.  
  
A neighbor was called. She was deaf and blind and crippled and drunk but she was certain she knew what she saw and heard. She heard a woman's voice shrieking "Die! Die!" and that woman sounded a lot like Mark Green's nice wife Phoebe. Bobby did a good job showing that she was deaf and so couldn't be relied upon for accurate testimony.  
  
Mark Green was called to the stand and he bluffed and slurred throughout his testimony, making himself look like the guilty man he wasn't. Bobby was great here and pulled off an amazing array of facial expressions from disbelief to guilt to doom. He is a talented guy, that one.  
  
There was no choice but for Phoebe to be called to the stand to make amends. It is at this point that I'll pick up on the story again...  
  
"Please state your full name for the record." The bailiff ordered.  
  
"Child of Satan." Phoebe replied, her eyeballs had rolled back in her head so that only the whites of her eyes could be seen.  
  
The bailiff looked at the judge uncertainly, this had never happened before and he wasn't sure how to handle the situation. The judge nodded calmly, mainly because he couldn't care less, and so the questioning proceeded.  
  
"Ms. Child of Satan," Bobby began. "Are you or are you not Mark Green's wife?"  
  
"I am!" she cackled.  
  
"Can you tell us your version of the events of March 26?"  
  
"Well it was a dark and stormy night when I killed my ex-boss."  
  
"Ms. Child of Satan, please respond to the question before you." Bobby yelled.  
  
"What's going on!?" Helen wailed, miffed by the current line of questioning. She had been sleeping and was genuinely curious.  
  
"Your Honor, I would like to treat this witness as hostile!" Bobby yelled. "Ms. Child of Satan, did your husband kill Mr. Frasier?"  
  
"No!" she replied with glee. "I did it! I did it!"  
  
"Ms. Child of Satan!" Bobby suddenly grew silent and his eyes widened. The answer had come to him. "Oh my God! You did it! You killed Mr. Frasier didn't you? The severed finger, the bloody clothing, the paranoid schizophrenic episodes. It all fits! Your Honor, may the court identify this woman as the murderer! My client is innocent!"  
  
***  
  
It is at this point that I'd like to draw your attention away from the drama playing out in the courtroom and head back to the conference room where a drama of a different sort was in progress.  
  
"Lucy, can you tell them through the blinds that we need the conference room? I have a meeting in twenty minutes!" Lindsay wailed.  
  
"Ewww gross. Its Jimmy and that awful judge, I'm not interrupting anything!" Lucy wrinkled her nose in distaste.  
  
"But I need the room!" Lindsay cried, stomping her foot. That had always worked for her before. But today, no cigar. Or in the spirit of the current litigation: no shoelace. As an aside, it bears mentioning that Lindsay had thrown out all shoes containing shoelaces from her and Bobby's closet, which is why at this very moment, Bobby was arguing his case in a pair of Lindsay's 4 inch red stilettos.  
  
Finally, a sweaty Jimmy and a flushed Roberta Kittleson emerged from the room and after a cursory wipe down of the table, Lindsay set out her papers once more. They kind of stuck to the surface of the conference table but she wasn't willing to explore the reasons behind that (or to be perfectly honest, I wasn't).  
  
The Lawyer for the CEO, Mr. Shoehorn, strutted through the door. That's how litigation defense attorneys move. They don't walk, they strut. Trust me on this.  
  
"Ms. Dole, you have brainwashed my client!" he whined.  
  
"Excuse me?" Lindsay asked.  
  
"He sold the factory yesterday and has gone into the Velcro business."  
  
Lindsay beamed. She had converted another one. This was all too easy. No seriously, it was.  
  
The lawyer checked the papers in his hand before shrugging helplessly. "We'd like to offer you 10 million dollars for the wrongful death of little Angela Clumsylegs."  
  
"It's a deal."  
  
They shook on it and Mr. Shoehorn left the office.  
  
Wow that really ended nicely didn't it? And it ended without Lindsay ever having to reveal that little Angela was actually a paraplegic and the cause of her untimely fall was a wheelchair dysfunction. But don't worry, Lindsay had THAT lawsuit all planned out.  
  
And if that all doesn't make sense, sue me.  
  
***  
  
Back to the courtroom...  
  
Everybody was in a state of wide-eyed disbelief. The judge had been banging his gavel repeatedly but to no avail. The jurors were destroying furniture (again) and spectators had merged into an angry mob and were terrorizing the security guards at the front entrance. Meanwhile Ms. Child of Satan, or Phoebe as she is more commonly known, was smiling angelically from the witness stand as all hell broke loose around her. Her husband was sobbing at the defense table, crying out in anguish "Why didn't I see it? How could I have missed such obvious clues? Why has God done this to me? Why God, why?" There's that whine again. Told you that would annoy me by the end of this story.  
  
Finally security guards led Phoebe from the room and the men in white coats took Mark Green away for some quality time with a padded wall. But don't worry about him, he made friends with Big Bertha in the next cell and that Rose girl across the hall was just so sweet and nice.  
  
Bobby, his job done, and done well, returned to the office where he was met with wild celebrations. Helen had followed him to the office (because she doesn't really have a life outside the DA office and this firm) and they all joined in the fun; drinking and partying well into the night.  
  
"This is the life-" Helen said later, sighing happily.  
  
"Shut up, Helen," Lucy snapped. "You only get to join in the conversation if you're talking about lawyer stuff and if you're prosecuting one of our clients. Otherwise, you get no lines."  
  
"Oh. Right. I forgot." Helen whispered, raising her glass to her lips.  
  
"Shhhh!" Lucy admonished.  
  
Finally it came time to leave and they all traipsed out of the office together. The elevator refused to climb to their floor (it was late after all and the poor thing had been working hard all day. Elevators have feelings too), so they took the stairs. It was an unfortunate incident that occurred here and I will tell it as briefly and emotionlessly as I possibly can...  
  
Eugene had failed to heed Lindsay's warnings and took an unfortunate tumble down the stairs. They all laughed gaily about the irony of the situation and stepped over Eugene's prone body on their way out.  
  
And they all vowed never to wear shoelaces again.  
  
The end 


End file.
